


Games of the past

by Victoriancrow



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Cancer, Implied Relationship, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Events, Playing Games, Scarecrow - Freeform, Scriddler, The Riddler - Freeform, riddler/scarecrow - Freeform, scarecrow/riddler - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-24
Updated: 2016-11-24
Packaged: 2018-09-02 00:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8644216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Victoriancrow/pseuds/Victoriancrow
Summary: On a boring day, Jonathan decides to play a game with Edward to see just who had the worst past between the two. (my fiancé wanted a fic to get to know the characters' pasts a bit better)





	

Gotham city was a hot spot for crime. The older the city got, the worse the criminals had gotten. Two criminals in specific were spending a night at their shared hideout. Jonathan Crane and Edward Nygma had decided that the two of them working together would be much more efficient with two great minds worth of criminal ideas, to best the Batman, than just one. The fact that the two had to share a cell in Arkham was another reason that they had decided to move in with each other. The two weren’t sure what they had become during their shared imprisonment, but they did know that they enjoyed each other’s company.

 

Most of their days were spent working on their own personal projects, or trying to steal something from a small organization; this day was being spent sitting on the small couch that the two had found on a curb. Crane was attempting to read the Gotham newspaper that he had picked up from the convenience store just around the corner, while Nygma was going on a rant about his latest idea.

 

Laying down the paper on his lap with a calming deep breath, the doctor looked at the other. “Nygma, do you ever shut up?”

 

“Why would I ever silence my wonderful ideas? It isn’t as if you have anything better to tell. Just you watch, my spooky counterpart,” Edward patted the other on the shoulder, “this latest plan will catch the Batman for good! He will never figure this one out!” The smile on the Riddler’s face was almost blinding. The doctor couldn’t help but smile back at the other. “Plus, it’s not like you are going to talk about anything, you don’t have as many ideas as I do.”

 

Crane's smile fell then rolled his eyes as he looked back at his paper. “You always have to open your mouth don’t you?”

 

“What's that supposed to mean?”

 

“How about this?” The doctor said changing the subject, before the other would get too butt hurt. “Why don’t we play a game? Whoever wins has to do the other's plan next week.” The doctor smiled, knowing that there was no way the other could ever refuse to compete with the elder. It was almost a tick of his, and the doctor knew just how to make the other truly compete. He had been curious about a few things over the last week, and seeing as how the two were currently doing nothing, he decided to execute his plan.

 

Nygma was always one for a contest to prove himself to anyone that would listen. “I like your idea.” He scooted a bit closer to the other so their legs were touching. “What kind of game are you thinking of? A trivia game? Oh! Maybe some riddles?” His eyes were brightened and he wanted to outsmart the other.

 

Jonathan shook his head smirking at the other as he pulled the shorter man onto his lap. “No no, dear Nygma. I was thinking more of something that we could not cheat on.”

 

Nygma twitched a bit at the word. “Cheat? Why would you, I don’t cheat!” He tried to squirm away from the other, but he couldn’t get away from the doctor's tight grip.

 

“Don’t make this more difficult, Nygma, I just need to-“ Edward gave a yelp as he felt the sharp pain in his right thigh. “There it is.”

 

“Why did you-“  The redhead groaned clutching his leg. His vision had started to swirl, changing things to a slightly warped version of reality. Bile rose to the back of his throat, though the younger refused to throw up. It would not be the first, nor the last time that the other would drug him as a means of entertainment, yet every time he did it the Riddler would wake up the next morning, usually covered in sweat and tears from the horrifying visions that were from the past.

 

“I gave you a smaller dosage than I usually do so we can even the odds of our game. Now, let's talk about our past. Whoever has the worst past will win.” He placed the other back down on the couch as he sat down on the floor, pulling out a pad of paper from underneath the falling apart piece of furniture. “Now,” pulling on a pair of his reading glasses, Crane smiled at the other, pencil at the ready, “Tell me about your childhood.”

 

“I don’t want to play this game anymore. Please?” The smaller was starting to squirm in discomfort. He saw the look in the other’s eyes and knew that the only difference between Dr. Jonathan Crane, and the infamous Scarecrow, was whether or not he wanted to learn, or install the fears and physiological issues of his subjects. Luckily for the shorter man, the mask was left alone in its corner. “We don’t need to play. You can win,” he said hopefully.

 

The redhead's face fell when Crane shook his head tutting, “Oh no no no, my dear boy. I want to see just how much we differ from each other. Our pasts are something that has both brought us to this exact moment. If we are to be living with each other and,” he chuckled to himself more out of embarrassment than attempting to demean the other, “engage in certain activities in the bedroom areas.” A part of him wanted to add that the activities usually went to other areas in the room, but he was noticing the other was slowly succumbing to the small amount of toxin in his blood. “Let us begin with this.” Without writing down his own experiences, he took a deep breath. Another reason that the doctor had given him the toxin was so he wouldn't over analyze Crane’s own background and shut him down, rather delving into the Riddler’s personal past and the horrors behind it. “I will begin. I lived with my great-grandmother, a retched woman who was overly Christian. She pushed her beliefs onto myself and it caused for some horrible things to happen, which I will get into as the session continues.” He fixed his glasses and motioned towards the other. “Now you go, Nygma.”

 

“I don’t want to.”

 

Jonathan slammed his hand on the couch right next to Edward’s leg. “Now.” He said sternly at the shivering man. He was not planning on using any force on the redhead for his experiment, hoping that he would be truthful in his stories and open up to his supposed partner in crime, but that did not meant the doctor would not use the effects of the toxin to further his chances of getting out information from the other.

 

The redhead jumped in the chair and opened his mouth, spewing out his own memory. “I didn't have a mother,” he blurted out quickly. “It was only my dad and I. He was a bad person.” The last bit was a whisper as Nygma hid his face, trying to fight off memories.

 

“Good. Now please Nygma, don’t be scared to go deeper.” He emphasized this by injecting a bit more of his toxin into the scared man. “My great-grandmother would lock me in a barn to be crow's food whenever I did something that was not up to her prestigious standards.”

 

Edward whimpered as he remembered more and more about his childhood. “Dad would beat me whenever I got a good score because he thought I was too smart to be his child.”

 

Jonathan nodded, writing that bit of information down. “Ah yes the need for approval, I see.” Looking back up he noticed how Edward was already on the edge of tears. The doctor pulled up his own shirt to reveal scars that had almost faded to nothing underneath newer scars from the Batman. “That bitch put food in my clothing so the crows would attack me.”

 

“I was never given attention at school.” The Riddler said. It made the doctor nod as he wrote down how he thought that may be another reason for the other's need for attention and constant praise. Obviously his father would be the main reason, but he didn't get any positive attention at all during childhood so it seemed.

 

In a monotone voice, Crane said as he wrote done his thoughts, “They bullied me.”

 

“Nobody believed in me so I learned how to do riddles and tricks,” his head fell down in a mixture of sorrow and druggedness from the shot he had received from the other, “but they didn't even care.”

 

“Everyone called me 'Scarecrow' because of my stature, it’s not my fault that woman never fed me well.” His writing was getting hard as he thought about his own childhood, having to clear his throat to remind him of his goal of getting to know the other. The neat handwriting turned jagged as he wrote down ‘passion for puzzles came about as a call for attention, resulting in a later-in-life obsession’.

 

“My mother abandoned me with a man who would beat me day and night because he was too stupid to put down a bottle to read a book.” The Riddler’s thin arms wrapped around himself as he fought back the visions of his father. A higher dosage of toxin would have made him feel, and see, the man beating him at that very moment. He whimpered a bit trying to get the other to stop his little game of therapy.

 

“My mother left me only to have a baby girl who she loved and cared for while I was being tortured everywhere I went!” The pencil snapped in half as the mad doctor slammed it down on the pad angrily. He sighed before reaching in his pocket and pulling out another to replace it.

 

“I cheated at a riddle game!” Edward broke down in tears. Crane went silent. He knew that the other valued staying true to the games he made and would not tolerate anyone going against those rules. “I cheated like an idiot and I can never take it back.” The self-hatred that the other felt was almost unbearable for the Riddler.

 

Jonathan placed down the pad of paper and reached over to the other, pulling the shaking form into a big hug. “It’s okay Edward. I’m here.” His angered voice turned soft. He was not finished playing his game, but as the tears wracked the other man, he felt a strange pang in his chest for him. Still holding him, the thin man continued. “I murdered my great-grandmother for what she did to me.”

 

“I cheated at the amusement park I worked at.”

 

“I lost my job as a teacher, and as a psychiatrist because they were too scared of what I was finding out about people in my research. They threw me aside like some sort of,” He paused feeling a bit sad himself, “ragdoll.” To make himself snap out of his mood he released the other and sat back down on the ground.

 

“I can’t stop leaving puzzles.” The redhead cried through tears. “I can’t commit a crime without leaving a riddle, or else I can’t steal at all.” He had gone to Arkham in the past on his own free will to attempt to have the problem fixed. He would never imagine that he would be a prisoner to his own skill.

 

“I don’t feel fear anymore. I feel like I’m not alive some days because of it.” It was hard to admit that, but because of the other's own admitions, he was more comfortable to open up. While the conversation was a little dark and much more in-depth than he thought it would have been, he did not think that the other could get much darker than he would have; it seemed that he would win this little game between the two. It was not until the other opened his mouth that he realized how wrong he was.

 

Taking several deep breaths, The Riddler looked at his partner dead in the eyes. “I have cancer.” The tears streamed out of the sides of his eyes, yet he did not blink. “I am going to die.”

 

Jonathan was shocked. He never assumed, nor would imagine that the man was holding such a hard secret. “How long have you known this?”

 

Taking a few more breaths, the shorter male whispered out, “Since Arkham.”

 

“Why didn't you tell me?” Jon was starting to feel a panic inside of himself. He wouldn't call it fear, but an extreme worry. As much as the younger annoyed him, he could not ever imagine a life without the narcissistic man in it. “Where is the cancer?”

 

The words sounded almost painful to say. “The only place that is important: my brain.” He covered his face up, ashamed that his brilliant mind had been seized by something so terrible and normal without anything for him to do about it. “I will die stupid, just like my father,” he mumbled through his hands with a bit of malice.

 

Jonathan stood up, and sat down next to Nygma. The skinny man wrapped his arms around the other and held the crying man tightly. “I’m sorry. I didn't know that you were dealing with this.” He waited a while to see if the other was going to say or do anything, but for once, even if he had no toxin in his blood, he stayed completely silent. “Why didn't you tell me about this Eddie?” The elder only used the nickname when trying to make the other feel comfortable, or to calm him down. “I could have-“

 

“Done what? Can your fear toxin cure cancer?” he looked up at the other only to see the elder shake his head in an apologetic way. The redhead lowered slowly. “I didn't think so.” The two sat in silence, simply stuck in an embrace. Neither of them wanted to move away from the other, nor did they want to talk. The small storage space that served as their home was the only thing that was making noise in the small space. Creaks and groans from the old building gave the two something to listen to, other than the Riddler’s light sobs.

 

After what felt like an hour, the younger pushed himself back a bit from the other, without fully getting out of the embrace. “I have a plan. I hope it will work, but if not,” he sighed wiping away the tears that had stained his face, “I don’t have all that long.”

 

“And what is this plan exactly?”

 

Edward lifted his head and smiled a bit sadly. “Something brilliant, as usual.”

 

Crane couldn’t help but laugh at the other's joke. “As usual.” He hugged the other, albeit a bit awkwardly this time, and motioned towards the broken mattress in the corner littered with a variety of blankets and two pillows. “The toxin will be out in a couple of minutes. Would you like to go to bed?”

 

Nygma looked at the other with a raised eyebrow, “You aren’t going to start treating me like a broken toy now are you?”

 

The mad doctor replied by standing up from the couch and reaching his hand out as an offering to the younger. “I know your past now Nygma, written down is every word that came out of your mouth. You are already a broken toy.” With a smile the younger took his hand and the two walked over to the bed and lying down to get some much needed rest from their mental excursions.  The supervillains fell asleep in each other’s arms, trying to let the other know that no matter how hard of a past each of them have had, they could always really on the other, who was just as broken and beat up as the other. The game didn't matter in the end, but it had given them a reason to stay with each other, and strangely enough, give each other more respect for the other.

 

 

 

 


End file.
